


Double Pheonix Rising

by Audrey_Lynne



Series: We Thought the Wall Would Stand Forever [1]
Category: Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001), Hedwig and the Angry Inch - Trask/Mitchell
Genre: Hedwig's Recovery, Other, Rebirth, Repairing Relationships, Self-Discovery, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3370829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey_Lynne/pseuds/Audrey_Lynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were never going to get happily ever after.</p><p>But maybe they were going to be okay.</p><p>In the end, it was all they could ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Pheonix Rising

**Author's Note:**

> It is really hard to tag the relationship category when the characters' genders are highly questionable at this point in the story. This takes place pretty much immediately following the current stage version's finale. I tagged the movie because it spawned this current incarnation, as well as it being the only Hedwig category currently on this site. But I have a series of short tales in my head following what happens to Hedwig and Yitzhak and their worlds following the finale. As one story ends, another always begins. (This is, of course, just my personal interpretation of how it might go. So many are valid, and that's the beauty of this story.)
> 
> They won't all be this metaphor-heavy, but this one just seemed to call for it to me, along with the shameless lyrical references.

* * *

 

They were never going to get happily ever after.

 

But maybe they were going to be okay.

 

In the end, it was all they could ask for.

 

As the lights went down – not across a Midwest trailer park this time, where it all started, but a New York City theatre – one question remained. _What now?_

 

The audience, unaware that the breakdown they'd witnessed and subsequent rebirth had been completely unscripted, cheered for an encore. (They would get it in future shows, perhaps, but not this one.) It was a brilliant twist, they'd say later. Critics would rave about the one-night-only performance, using words like “heightening” to describe the climax to the finale.

 

The stars of the performance, meanwhile, were slumped together on a sofa backstage, mutually wondering, _What the hell did we just do?_ Drained, and yet emotionally fulfilled. A pile of limbs, glitter, and synthetic fabrics. They could just hear the roar of the crowd, but they weren't listening. For a long time, there wasn't a sound backstage but both of them breathing heavily, the band standing at a respectful distance, not sure what to make of the entire affair.

 

Then a voice came from the pile of humanity on the sofa. English, with a German accent, thick with fatigue. “Yitzhak, get up. I think I'm actually inhaling glitter.”

 

One of the bodies rolled over, no small feat in a giant purple and pink ballgown, studded with jewels and butterflies, which could be said to provide a perfect metaphor for her emergence from a cocoon. She wasn't ready for that higher level of thinking, however, not yet. Too tired. Brain still reeling. She glanced over at her partner, whose face was still coated in streaks of glitter-laden makeup. He was wearing nothing but underwear, and he looked even more exhausted than she was. “Are you all right?” She wanted to use a name, but she had no idea which one to use.

 

There was a long pause. A nod. Then - “I think I might be.”

 

For the moment, it was enough. The theatre was emptying. Silence reigned. The band occupied themselves with studying the floorboards, still not sure how to address all that they'd witnessed. Or if it even _should_ be addressed.

 

A little over ninety minutes ago, they had opened a show on a diva and a marriage in tatters. Now, those same two were holding hands, quietly, just taking in the moment together. The diva was quiet, humbled. Mostly naked, and not in a sexual sense. Her previously beleaguered husband, meanwhile, was radiant in that monstrosity of a gown, and looking utterly gratified. None of the band had seen this side of either of them, not in the years they'd been employed, traveling around the country together. Hedwig Robinson never, ever showed weakness. Krystal Nacht had been banned from existence long ago. And now here they were, like it or not. Lying on a couch still dusted with plaster from the previous show that had occupied the theatre. Staring at the ceiling. But it was a comfortable silence, a companionship. In their last few moments onstage, wounds had started to heal – finally bandaged instead of being ripped open constantly.

 

The silence lasted only as long as it took their manager to arrive backstage. Phyllis Stein was a reserve of the very energy her stars lacked, barely able to stand still. “That was _amazing_! You know I hate when you pull surprises on me, but – this! I couldn't have imagined it.”

 

“Funny, neither could we.” Schlatko was typically known for being a man of few words – all of the band members were, really. Their English was limited, and until recently, it had been difficult to get a word in edgewise.

 

Phyllis texted someone furiously, still practically dancing in place. “We're going to sell out for a year in advance with this new vision. People are tweeting about it already. Oh! Hedwig, darling, are you all right?”

 

“Hedwig may or may not exist anymore.” The voice was still the same – the accent, laced with heavy irony. But it lacked all mocking tone nearly anything coming out of Hedwig's mouth had in recent months. “Please leave your message at the tone.”

 

Skszp giggled and made a beeping noise, earning a smirk and thumbs-up from the figure on the sofa.

 

Phyllis had moved on to assessing the pile of taffeta that had curled into a ball and was currently attempting to take a nap. “See, now I'm glad we brought that dress on the tour. It really was too small for Hedwig, but it's perfect on you. I love those butterflies – I fought for them.” The glittery heels were kicked off and fell to land at Phyllis' feet, but she continued, undeterred. “I'm thinking we were wrong about the double act. This has such potential.”

 

“Good. Yes. I agree. We'll discuss it later.” Hedwig rose, helping Yitzhak up and linking their arms together. “Now, I intend to sleep for a month, wash this glitter from places I wasn't even aware existed until recently, and reacquaint myself with my husband. Not necessarily in that order.” And they were out, leaving like the king and queen of the rock scene they were. Even if they weren't sure anymore who was king and who was queen. They would figure it out.

 

* * *

 

The housekeepers were going to hate them. There was glitter on nearly every surface they'd touched. Not to mention the bathtub.

 

Granted, this was par for the course. They'd just learned to tip well.

 

Long nights on the tour scene had usually left the entire crew shoved in a row of rooms in some little backwater motel, with paper-thin walls between them. But fate had been good to them lately, and for this special performance in New York, they'd treated themselves. An actual hotel with more than two stars, overlooking Times Square. With plush duvets and down-filled pillows.

 

In retrospect, this may have been a mistake, because neither one of them knew how they were going to get up in time to check out.

 

Five minutes later, the phone rang and Phyllis, with her usual flair for the dramatic, was chirping at them, solving that problem. “Good morning! Don't worry about check-out, I've extended our stay. Guess who's on the Today show tomorrow! That's us, and it has nothing to do with Tommy. It's all about you, my darlings, the glory – the rebranding. Are you there?”

 

Yitzhak snatched the phone, affecting a faux – and terrible – German accent. “Yes, of course, dear. We'll talk. Kisses!”

 

Hedwig was laughing into the pillow, both of them naked and curled together beneath the duvet, save for the glitter that still clung to their bodies. It was absolutely impossible to get rid of entirely. “That sounds nothing like me.”

 

“Well, you were no help at all.” Yitzhak laughed, curling close. “You would have let her natter on for hours, and if we're keeping this room, I am going back to sleep.”

 

“Excellent plan.” Hedwig's fingers curled in Yitzhak's hair.

 

Yitzhak settled in comfortably, eyes trailing to Hedwig's face. “What you said last night, about Hedwig being gone, possibly. Do you still want me to call you that? Or...would you prefer Hansel? Maybe...something else?”

 

“Am I a man now? A woman? Still somewhere in between, like I suppose I always was?” The questions were clearly rhetorical, so Yitzhak stayed silent, listening. “I have no idea, to be honest. Can we take it day by day, at least for now?”

 

“Of course.” Yitzhak backed the promise up with a kiss. “Tell me in the morning and I'll call you whatever you like.”

 

“Hedwig's fine, this morning. I'm used to the sound. And I should ask you the same.” Hedwig raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Are you comfortable as the man I made you to be? Do you just like the glamor to put on and take off? Or...is it something deeper? Have you been Krystal all along, locked in a cage?”

 

It was a question Yitzhak had been struggling with for some time, not even daring to dream until this moment. “I guess...it's something to think about.” But her heart cried yes, that this was her time to refuse to turn back. The tears overflowed, and she cried harder as they were gently wiped away. “I...am Krystal.” She lacked her partner's gift for metaphors and allusions, and there was no simpler way to put it.

 

“Lot's wife, my dear,” Hedwig clucked. “I figure at least that part was in your Torah. If it's Krystal you are, then Krystal you will be. I have no right to hold you back from that. I never did. And...I'm sorry.”

 

They had a lot to work through; there was no deluding themselves about that. A therapist was going to be a firm third partner in this marriage for awhile. But it did feel like there was light now, and not just flooding through the windows in neon form from Times Square. Yitzhak – Krystal – nodded, smiling. No one knew better than the two of them that bodies meant nothing to gender. She was still crying, happy tears, celebrating their mutual rebirth. Both of them, finally free to choose their own destinies and identities. “I suppose I should pick a last name.” Her given one was technically fine, but she wanted to step away from the past entirely. She had no family to honor with a name. Her father had disowned her the first time he caught her in a dress. Hedwig and the band, they were all she had.

 

“I don't know.” Hedwig laughed. “I always was fond of puns – the worse, the better. Tasteless a joke as it may be, I find it hilarious. Of course, my entire adult life is something of a tasteless joke. But you have a point. You do need something for everyday use. If you're not interested in keeping what's written on your official papers, I do have a suggestion.”

 

“Oh?” she asked, intrigued.

 

“Schmidt.” Hedwig's lips curled upward, and the casual smirk gave way to a genuine smile. “I've been thinking of reclaiming it myself.”

 

Krystal laughed, nodding. “It's perfect.”

 

Hedwig's smile hadn't faded. “Then, from this moment, unless you change your mind, it's settled. Krystal Schmidt. It has a certain ring to it.”

 

“It does,” Krystal agreed. She couldn't recall a time in recent years when Hedwig had looked so content. She couldn't recall a time she'd been so content. This was the sort of moment she wanted to bottle forever. She settled back down, resting her head on Hedwig's shoulder. “Tell me what you're thinking, _dušo moja_.” It was her pet name for Hedwig since the early days of their union, and she refused to translate it from Croatian. It meant “my soul,” and she was always afraid Hedwig was more a part of her soul than the other way around. Now, she was more confident in her place, but she liked the mystery.

 

“Marry me.” Hedwig's eyes sparkled with an inner glow long absent. “Marry me again, when we mean it from the start. This time, you can wear the dress.”

 

That was all it took for Krystal to start crying again, and she nodded. “Of course.” They sealed the deal with a kiss, reaffirming their bond. The walls between them had fallen, and they were still figuring out who they were. It wasn't ever going to be happily ever after; that wasn't their way.

 

But maybe they were going to be okay.

 

 

 


End file.
